


(Sad) New Year

by rainbowbaz



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Alcohol, Introspection, M/M, Multi, New Year's Eve, Party, People Watching, Pining, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, sad Baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowbaz/pseuds/rainbowbaz
Summary: It’s Watford tradition for students in their final year to hold New Year’s celebrations on the football pitch. But Baz can't bring himself to go - because nobody would want him there, especially not Simon Snow... right?





	

Baz glances up from his textbook to watch Simon pathetically attempt to do up his tie. Part of him is tempted to get up and help him out (it’s a rather tragic sight, watching Snow’s fumbling fingers against silk), but that would be far too kind. Besides, Baz hasn’t the slightest idea why Snow is making such an effort. He’s only going to the New Year’s Ball, for Crowley’s sake.

Despite the glamorous title, the Ball is a glorified piss-up. It’s become Watford tradition for students in their final year to come back before the Spring term starts, and hold New Year’s celebrations on the football pitch, safely tucked away behind Mummer’s House. To ring in the New Year for a final time, and have a sense of community spirit, and all that shit Baz couldn’t care less about. 

In fact, he finds the entire event appallingly embarrassing, which is why it comes as a surprise to him when Simon turns around and asks him such a stupid question.

“What are you in your pyjamas for? Aren’t you coming?”

Baz forces himself to remain looking at his textbook. “No, Snow. Obviously not.”

“But, why? It’s tradition!” Simon seems far too excited, and it’s contagious. But Baz can’t let that show. He looks up, painting a sneer onto his face.

“Traditions are pathetic. Especially when they are to do with New Year’s. Time is merely an illusion, Snow. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well…” Simon is shifting between his feet, looking awkward. “Sometimes meaningless things can be fun. Right?”

“Not this. It’s quite the opposite.” He pointedly looks down at his textbook, signalling the end of the conversation. But Simon won’t have it.

“How come you’re here, then? If you think it’s so terrible?”

Shaking his head, Baz looks at Simon as if he’s talking in another language. “Sorry, what are you babbling on about?”

“I mean…” He’s getting flustered. “You didn’t have to come back to Watford until lessons start. So, if you’re not coming to the Ball, why are you here?”

Baz blinks. How is he even supposed to answer that question? _‘Well, Snow, the truth is, I was dying to see you in a suit'_? That would shut Simon up. But he really does look excellent in that suit, although it is too big for him and his tie is unforgiveably wonky...

No. See, this is exactly why Baz shouldn’t be going tonight. Snow, looking like a chiselled Roman statue, alongside alcohol, blurring Baz’s usual inhibitions, is obviously an irresponsible combination. Crowley knows how Baz would behave. He could reveal his deepest secrets. He’s never even had alcohol before, if you don’t count a glass of wine alongside his dinner. And this isn't exactly the ideal safe environment to try it out.

Despite his turbulent mind, the lie comes naturally when Baz quickly responds, “I may hate tradition, but my father is a slave to it. He remembers attending the New Year’s festivities when he was a youth, so he demanded that I join in.”

Simon believes it, thank Crowley. “So, you didn’t even argue with him?”

“There’s not much use. Anyway, I enjoy a bit of peace before term starts. My house is hardly a safe haven.” This part is true. Baz’s home life is incredibly dire and not even slightly relaxing. Partially because he doesn’t get to see Simon during the holidays, but _whatever._ He usually blames his endless fidgeting at home on the gargoyles.

“Okay. I guess that makes sense.” Simon looks awkward, glancing at his watch and then over to the door. It’s making Baz feel agitated.

“Just go.” Too aggressive. “Have… have fun.” Baz tries not to physically cringe. (‘Have fun’? He sounds like a mother saying goodbye to her child. He might as well say ‘Be home by eight!’)

Simon backs away, looking surprised at the pleasantries. “Thank you? I think…” _Finally_ , Baz thinks. _I can relax_. But Simon turns around once he reaches the door, and talks again. “Baz?”

“Yes?”

“You know, if you get lonely… You’re welcome to come along.”

Oh. Simon caring about him is a foreign concept. Baz isn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Snow smiles at him before he leaves, and Baz lets his composure drop once the door is firmly closed and he can hear Simon running down the corridor. That was the friendliest interaction they have had in years, and Baz feels dizzy.

He splashes some cold water on his face before returning to his textbook. 

\-----

For some reason, Baz is struggling to retain his concentration on his revision. And that reason is that he can hear laughing, screaming and (dreadful) music from outside.

He checks his watch. _11:55PM._ There are only five minutes to go until the New Year. He wonders if anything will change for him with the changing of the years. Whether he will stop being the enemy in the Story of Simon Snow, and be something more instead.

But then it hits him – by sitting around, moping, while everyone else is outside having fun, he is being exactly the kind of person he doesn’t want to be. He wants so much - he wants happiness, he wants to be alive like Simon is – Baz wants that same sparkle in Simon’s eyes; fuck that, he wants to _cause_ that sparkle. He wants Simon. So much. And by sitting around, all he is doing is worsening the situation. He could have so much more than this.

Baz defiantly flicks his textbook off his lap and throws open his wardrobe doors. Rifling through the clothes hangers, he finds his most casual suit. Perfect. As he adjusts his tie in the mirror and ruffles up his hair, he realises that he actually looks good. Handsome, even. There’s a healthy life glowing underneath his skin, making his complexion more rosy than usual. He looks like the kind of guy who hangs out at parties, rather than skulking around in Catacombs.

He checks his watch again. _11:58PM._ He still has time. As a final check of reassurance, he runs up to the window, staring out at the football pitch.

What he sees is dancing, smiling, singing. The fizz of magic in the air. Everyone has an aura about them, a glow. He can see Agatha, spinning in circles with her hair down. Dev and Niall pratting about, flirting with some girls they probably don’t know the names of. Bunce, laughing manically at something Simon has said. _Simon_ … for once looking genuinely free, without worrying or obsessing over his future, and just letting it happen.

Baz catches a glimpse of himself in the window reflection. He looks too wooden, too uptight. All of these people out on the courts… they’re alive, they’re glowing. The future winks at them, the promising new year, shining like gold, luring them in. But Baz isn’t like them. His future is planned out. He will fight on behalf of his family, for a war he couldn’t care less about. He will fight Simon, the golden boy, for all eternity. Simon will always hate him, or even pity him. Baz isn’t destined to get what he wants. He will never be free.

These people have a destiny that they can shape. Baz is destined for misery, dissatisfaction. He hasn’t got anything to celebrate. His future has no promise. Nobody out there needs him, not one person. Nobody has even noticed his absence, nobody has cared. What use would he be at a party like this? How foolish was he to think that anybody could need him?

 _5_ , Baz decides not to go.

 _4_ , He watches as Simon twirls Agatha towards him.

 _3... 2... 1_. “Happy New Year!”, they scream. Simon and Agatha are kissing, now, and Baz is torturing himself by watching them, although his chest is dropping and he feels like he might be sick. But then they stop, and Simon is looking up at him, his silhouette in the window. He’s smiling, and waving, and Baz thinks he might cry. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Snow does think more of him.

But the moment is over in a second. Simon turns back to his friends. They’re dancing, dancing, dancing. Another year of freedom. And for Baz, another year of heartache.

Baz watches the golden boy dance the night away.

 _“Happy New Year, Simon.”_ He whispers, before closing the curtains to block out the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wanted to post something in time for New Year's Eve, and I came up with this sad little one shot. I'm sorry that there's no happy ending - my heart is broken for poor Baz too :( I'm new to writing fanfiction so any feedback would be appreciated! Happy New Year, everyone <3
> 
> tumblr: https://rainbowbaz.tumblr.com/


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